It was not a pleasant experience in O.R. that morning. Not that it ever was, but this had been particularly difficult. Nursing staff had been dealing with burns from incendiary bombs in pre-op - apparently it helped to set fire to things before you properly shelled them so you could be sure where you were aiming. Meanwhile, others had been assisting in surgery whilst they removed the remains of artillery fire from infantry soldiers, some of whom had been brought in still clutching ineffectual rifles to their bodies like shields.

"Clamp, nurse. NOW!" Sally exclaimed, exasperated.

"No need to be so forceful, Captain," Margaret Houlihan replied in clipped tones, "Try to remember I am your superior in rank."

Sally's eyes flashed back at her over her mask. "Try to remember I am trying to stop this young man bleeding to death."

BJ and Hawkeye glanced at each other with a knowing look.

"Clamp, Doctor."

The two women looked across at each other as the instrument changed hands.

"Thank you, Major." Sally responded.

Potter smiled to himself under his mask.

oOo

The door of the O.R. opened after about eight hours. Klinger's unmistakable tones came across the room.

"Sirs, we've got a small one here. As in small person. As in tiny. What do I do?"

"Anyone free?" asked Potter. Charles started to count himself out, before Sally stepped in.

"I'm free, I think. Major, you're OK to close here?"

Margaret nodded "Of course, Doctor. Glad to."

Sally stepped away from the table she'd been working on, stripping off her apron as she went. Her gloves followed it into the bin, and she held out her hands as a nurse supplied the coverings required and she approached the one empty table in the room. Klinger, tottering on heels, was at the head of a litter with the smallest patient she'd seen in a while. A young boy, no more than 12, was in front of her. His clothes were stripped off, but she could see several puncture wounds in his chest and stomach, no doubt from finding something he shouldn't have in a field somewhere. Stroking his head softly, she nodded to the nurse at the head of the table, who placed a mask over the young boy's face. Focussed on the job at hand, she was completely oblivious to the priest who quietly positioned himself at the nurse's elbow with a worried expression.

When she opened him up, his condition was much worse than she'd thought. It'd been a while since she'd seen this kind of damage in a child's body, and the worst thing was their slight forms gave no room to work with.

"Dear God, it's like a colander in here," she muttered.

"You OK there?" BJ asked her. "I can assist if you like, I'm nearly done here."

"I'm fine," she relied, rather too abruptly. "Thank you, though." she added in a more gentle tone.

She began her work on what was left of the kid's bowel.

"Suction please, nurse" she said, as the cavity began to fill with blood. But as fast as it was removed, it began to fill up again. "Where the hell is that coming from?" she thought. Digging deeper, and up, she was suddenly hit in the face by a spurt of very dark, very red blood.

"Oh buggeration!" she exclaimed, "His liver's in pieces." She began to scrabble frantically in the depths of his abdomen, knowing full well that there was very little that could be done to save him.

"BP is dropping, Doctor" said the nurse at the head of the table.

"I know, I know," she snapped, never lifting her eyes from the tangled mess of innards in her hands. "More suction, for God's sake."

"I haven't got a pulse, Doctor" Sally's angry eyes began to sting. She began heart massage to try and pull the child back from the brink. Again and again she pumped his chest, ignoring the crack as his breastbone gave way. At that moment, she wished she could be anywhere but here. She wished she was sitting at home with her family, having never heard of this god-forsaken war being waged by someone else's country. That's where her mind went every single time she'd had to thump out this gruesome rhythm. She kept up her relentless pounding, stopping to check then starting up again when she received a negative answer. Until eventually. Inevitably.

Sally sighed deeply, from the pit of her chest. She looked up at the nurse checking vitals, and she looked across at Margaret Houlihan who'd joined the table. "Anything?"

"Nothing, Doctor. Sorry."

"Damn. Just…" she turned away, and cursed more strongly, quietly. "What's left?" she shouted toward Klinger, still stood at the door looking like a statue.

"We're done, Captain. That's it."

"Jesus… " she mumbled at Margaret across from her. She hadn't noticed the chaplain, just within earshot. "Captain," he whispered, not in an accusing manner, but more as a reminder.

She whipped her head round and looked at him, his pale blue eyes looked across the child's stilled face to meet hers. She nodded. "Sorry, I… you are?"

"Father Mulcahy"

"Right. Sorry, Father."

Sally moved around the table and pulled the instrument tray to her. Quietly, she threaded a needle and picked up forceps. "Do you mind if we work at the same time?" she asked him.

Mulcahy looked at Potter, who shrugged. He looked back at Sally. "Not at all, Doctor".

"Thank you. Major, will you assist?" she asked quietly.

"Of course, Doctor," Margaret replied.

Whilst the priest prayed for the child, the doctor and nurse put him back together as best they could.

oOo

Last out of the O.R., Sally sank down onto one of the benches. Charles was finishing up his 'ablutions' as he called it, and he turned to her as she stripped off her gown and threw it in a corner.

"You seem to have picked up the tune here remarkably well," he said.

"Well, once you've seen one, you've seen them all. This isn't my first opera, sir".

He chuckled at that reference, and she smiled in response and shrugged at him. "Well, Sir, I'm guessing from your accent you don't do rodeos."

"Charles, please", he extended a hand, which she gratefully took.

"Thank you, Charles. Sally."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sally. I've heard an awful lot about you. Although not your arrival here. That… well that was a surprise to us all".

"It usually is. I'm used to it. It takes a lot of effort to be here, and I'm often left wondering why I bother given the reception I get".

"We weren't rude I hope?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"Oh no, not at all!" she said. "Initially it's usually the nurses I have problems dealing with. Major Houlihan was absolutely brilliant. Time will tell whether my fellow doctors will be able to cope with me. There's a reason I get moved a lot, and it's not just because I'm British…"

Charles bristled a little, mostly because he knew exactly what she was getting at. It was all very well admiring work from a distance. But he could foresee a time when she stepped in, or assisted, or God forbid he assisted her, where it could all suddenly get rather awkward.

"Well, as I said, Doctor. I have heard great things, and it's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance." He bowed gently, and left, leaving her alone with only her own head to deal with. She'd deliberately not mentioned that she'd missed him in Tokyo General by two weeks and knew exactly how difficult he could potentially be if she tried to step on his toes.

This was her fourth M*A*S*H unit in 4 months. Before that, she'd done 4 months in Seoul before the fighting had driven everyone to God knows where. Two months in Tokyo General before she was climbing the walls with the normality of it all. Then 5 months in an EVAC hospital before she'd finally persuaded her commanding officer to send her back in the direction where her skills were needed. He'd tried to dissuade her, but she had five years on him and medals from WWII which outstripped his. From there, it was a similar pattern. M*A*S*H unit, fight with the nurses because she was a Doctor, fight with the doctors because she was a woman, the C.O put a call in and off she went. She'd been on R&R in Tokyo when she'd met a psychiatrist at a poker game who'd suggested the 4077th might be a good fit, but would say no more than that. That damned Sidney Freedman still owed her $40 if this one didn't work out.

Sally took a deep breath. She stood, and stepped into post-op to check on her handiwork, and sign off on the next lot of painkillers for the first patients she'd put back together.